


Hole In My Head

by ChelTea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:10:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelTea/pseuds/ChelTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A secret indulgence is interrupted by sarcasm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hole In My Head

I could feel it coursing through me in delicious waves. Any stress, anxiety, any fury I’d held toward the world only moments before had vanished; dissolved by the drug racing through my system.

He wouldn’t approve, of course. “Hypocrite”, he’d call me; “weak” he would snark. He’d throw out “selfish brat” on special occasions, but only when he thought the situation was particularly unfair.

This was different, though. Very different and I didn’t care. I needed this. I hated my own reliance on it but it was, in all absolute forms, necessary today. Every instance pushing me toward this unremarkable relapse replayed in my mind before quietly reprimanding myself and indulging once more.

“So good”, I whispered to the empty room.

A thrill rushed up my spine and my body involuntarily shivered and shimmied away the spasm. I let loose a muffled giggle and settled back into my seated position, amused at my own reaction.

A grin wrinkled its way onto my face and I breathed another sigh. That sigh rapidly took an unexpected detour backward into a gasp as the blinding white fluorescent lights flicked on and a door slammed against the wall.

“Oh you must be absolutely joking”, he drawled from the doorway.

I could almost hear the echo of his eyes rolling. There was a permeated silence filling the room as he waited for some sort of reply but I remained silent, frozen in my place. His footfalls landed softly on his pathway to where I was planted. He spoke again, his voice reverberating off the walls.

“You know how this usually goes”. I still said nothing. I swallowed hard as his steps excruciatingly crept closer. My eyes closed as he rounded the corner to the desk I’d cornered myself by, hoping somehow that not seeing him would hide me better. Four more steps…

three…

two…

one.

Resolute turn on his heels. Stop. Fabric against fabric as his arms crossed and waited. He knew I wouldn’t be able to play the patience game long, not with the chemicals I’d sent running rampant through my body. I let go of the breath I’d been holding and raised my eyes to him, opening them tentatively as though I’d just woken up from a long sleep. Glaring against the harsh lights of the lab, I studied him for a brief moment.

“How did you find me?”, I asked ruefully. A smirking scoff accompanying another eye roll first answered me as he uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“I’m a detective”, he made sure to place careful emphasis on each syllable of the word ‘detective’.

“Not only am I a detective,” he continued, “but the world’s only consulting detective and single-handedly one million times more efficient, not to mention competent, than the whole of Scotland Yard combined. It would be completely immodest of me to say locating you in lieu of events transpired only recently and in fairly quick succession of each other, was quite simply the easiest task I have every undertaken. Aside from Mycroft’s…issue with that ghastly…well, who cares anymore, really.” He sniffed and trailed off. All I could do was look at him basking in the rays of his own glory, but something didn’t quite add up. His coat and hair were wet with rain so it seemed he hadn’t been here long or even at all for any part of the day. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Liar” I grumbled. His eyes widened only to glare right back down at me, surprised by my accusation.

“I beg your pardon, but I fail to see how you’ve got any right to-“

“Oh shut it, you git.” I interrupted, waving my hand dismissively. “Molly told you, didn’t she?” It was a statement more than a question. Sherlock knelt in front of me.

“Of course she bloody did. She’s looking out for you”. I scoffed. “She is not, she’s guarding her own stash!”

“Well can you blame her?” he asked as he sat down beside me. “You’ve been sneaking them from her desk fridge for weeks; that stuff adds up pretty quick.”

“I am aware, thank you. She would take mine at the start, you know. Now she’s almost up to 3 a day, almost as hooked as I am!”

He outright laughed and hung an arm around my shoulders.

“No one in this entire hospital drinks as much Diet Coke as you. No one. Not even the patient upstairs with liver failure.” He chuckled to himself and carefully reached around me and snatched the can I’d set on the floor when he had startled me upon his arrival. He brought the can of caffeine, sugar, and caramel coloured phosphoric acid to his mouth and chugged. My jaw dropped and brow furrowed. He caught a sideways glance at me but didn’t stop. When the can was void of all life nectar, he crushed it in his hand and tossed it into the bin beside Molly’s mini fridge under her desk. He turned to me, face full of victory and mischief, and chuckled to himself. My jaw clamped shut in time with my fist and I prepared for assault. Just as I raised my hand to land it into his shoulder (which probably would have only done damage to my hand rather than him), he let out another blast of laughter and shouted.

“No, no wait!” and chuckling, he reached into his coat and withdrew a brand new, unopened, and ice cold bottle of Diet Coke. He handed it to me gingerly.

“Molly also told me what your day has been like and the dickhead you’ve had to deal with all morning. I’m truly sorry for all the hell my brother has caused you and would like to offer you this Diet Coke on his behalf as a sign of peace.” I smiled for the first time in hours. I smiled and it spread like wild fire. My whole demeanor lifted and I felt extreme relief.

“Mycroft also has no idea I’m doing this, of course, so there’s more cause for celebration”

Laughing, I cracked the bottle top and listened to the spray and fizz.

“Oh!”, just then a thought occurred to me. I reached under the desk I was propped against and dug into my bag. I set the bottle down and took Sherlock’s hand. Finally after scanning the black hole that was my purse, I found what I was looking for. I held his hand so his palm was facing upward and placed my gift of thanks into it.

“Thank you, Sherlock. For really understanding.” He curled his fingers around the cigarette I gave him, twirled it around, and brought it to his lips.

“Have you got a light?” he grinned.

I took my own cigarette between my lips and turned to face him. I flicked the lighter between us. Taking a drag from the cancer stick he muttered, “Those sodas are no good for you, you know. Full of chemicals and artificial colouring.”

I started to laugh and coughed on my smoke and finally got that punch landed on his shoulder. And there on the cold tiles of the morgue floor at Barts, we quietly indulged in our little vices, savoring the calm and silent for as long as possible.

-Fin


End file.
